Cashmere
by taligator
Summary: He didn't know what had changed, only that it had. HPDM


Cashmere

Author: taligator at yahoo dot com

Disclaimer: I own none of the characters or fictitious locations; they belong to J. K. Rowling.

HP/DM (R)

* * *

I didn't know what had changed only that it had. It was my last trip to Hogwart's on the train. It was a mixed bag of emotions with the 7th year students. Most were giddy and the others melancholy. Each compartment on the train was full; the school had had an influx of students over the last two years and the school was full to capacity.

I needed to get out of the compartment and away from the chatter of the others. I started to walk down the train toward the end where there were a few empty compartments that were only used for teachers. I'd spent the summer cooped up in the house, only going outside to do lawn work and other chores. I wasn't ready to sit still just yet. The last compartment loomed ahead of me and as I looked inside, I sucked in a breath.

He sat in the corner next to the window, his feet tucked up on the bench. His cheek rested on top of his knees as he looked out the window. His arms were wrapped around his legs, possessively. His hair flowed down over his knees, white and startling against his black trousers. Draco Malfoy. He wore a black sweater which made him appear even paler than he already was.

Sometimes you look at someone long enough and you stop seeing them. I'd been looking so hard at his name and status that I was no longer able to see that he was human. We both stood on the cusp of life, almost adults yet so very young. We both had lives that many have envied yet were not good to have. My parents were dead and his in prison and driven insane. We didn't really have anyone, we had friends but we existed in our own little world.

I stood there at my own window and watched him with my forehead pressed against the glass. I could feel the chill seep through my skin. It was cold in there,

I understood coldness.

I oft wondered if others felt the way I did and then I watched Ron sleep one night. When he slept, his entire being relaxed. His face held a slight smile as though he dreamt of sunshine and daisies; his body was open and soft. He was secure.

I knew that if I were to watch Draco sleep he'd have a frown furrowing his brow and his lips would be pursed. He wouldn't be relaxed; he'd be rigid and ready for flight. No, not everyone felt like I did but I knew now that I wasn't alone, Draco was there too.

I wouldn't open the door and talk to him. I could only watch. Sometimes I felt so maudlin and it wasn't intentional. My life wasn't as bad as others. I was still alive after all.

Draco moved in his seat and I stilled, not wanting to draw attention to myself. He saw me anyway. He'd been lost in his thoughts and not seen the dark shape reflected in the window but when he came to, he saw it and he saw me. He stiffened as he looked at me and I shook my head 'no' and placed my palms to the glass.

He tilted his head to the side and unfurled his legs and stood. Slowly and deliberately he walked toward me. I kept my hands on the glass, open to him. He finally reached me, it'd only been ten steps but it felt forever. His hands hung at his sides, swinging slightly as he walked. Once he reached me, he placed his palms against mine on the glass and looked me in the eyes. I let him see me and at that moment I knew that he understood.

The glass had been cold but warmed under our combined heat.

I was afraid to open my mouth for fear that I could not speak kindly. I may have realized he was like but that didn't mean that I knew how to deal with it. I was certain that I wasn't the only one.

A clatter down the hall startled me and I jerked my gaze away from him and looked to see what it was. Seeing nothing, I looked back at him to find him once again sitting by the window. He dipped his head to indicate I could come in and I did. Sliding the door open, I walked toward him. I felt as though I were being hunted even though I was the one walking toward him.

Curiously, he pats the area next to him. I wouldn't have sat so close so soon if hadn't. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, I wasn't sure I was either right now. I lowered myself next to him, angling my body into him. My knees touched his and I could feel the heat of him leaking through what appeared to be high quality wool trousers.

My gaze kept moving to his hands and back to his face. His hands fascinated me; pale and long. Had they not been adorned with a finely woven sweater they may have been grotesque.

I continued to fidget but I pulled my sweater sleeves down over my fingers. They were browned from the sun and callused from labor. Labor he didn't know. My sweater was in no better shape but I couldn't help that either.

He captured my hands in his, subduing their movements. My anxiety both increased and decreased, a feat I'd thought impossible. He slid our palms together and measured them. The contrast was stark and I pulled away, ashamed of my worn hands. He held fast and slid his fingers between mine and held tight. I looked back up to his eyes and saw nothing contemptuous, only curious. Opening my mouth to speak, he shook his head no.

Words would only ruin what we'd created. I flexed my fingers, stroking along his. His skin was soft and felt delicious against mine, a soothing balm on my weary hands. He pressed closer, aligning his own body against mine. Thigh to thigh we sat. He was practically in my lap and our fingers were still clutched together. I don't know what we were doing and I don't think he rightly understood either. It just flowed and pooled between us.

I worked one hand free and touched his arm. It was soft … cashmere. At least, that's what I'd think cashmere felt like. It wasn't the slightest bit scratchy like my own sweaters. It was easily as soft as his hands. I palmed his forearm and slid it up his arm, stopping at his elbow. I wondered if he had pale blue veins at his elbow like I did. He twitched underneath me and I took my eyes off my hand and looked at him.

A quirk of his mouth, a smile? He put his hand on my thigh, gripping it between his silk hands.

I moved as he moved. We reached the apex at the same time, his neck and my thigh. I felt his pulse thrum under my touch, fast but not from fear.

Sliding my hand around the back of his neck and through the strands of hair, I pulled him toward me as he slid his hand under my sweater. Cool on my too warm skin, I could feel him so close to me. We were connected by our skin.

I never knew that touching someone could be so intimate. Granted, my experience in touching was limited to the few hugs from the Weasley family, Sirius and Hermione. I'd had more negative touch in my life than anything else. This wasn't negative. This made my body scream in pleasure from the simplicity and life. Every part of me that once felt dead now came to life with a roar of triumph.

I moved past his mouth and slid my face along his cheek, inhaling him deep inside. My nose rubbed along the outside of his ear and further to bury along the nape of his neck. He was warmth and light, the sunshine on a snowy day. He smelled of power too. Pulling back, a cautious tongue slid over his ear and a hand convulsively clutched my waist. I didn't know what I was doing, I'd said it before and I meant it more now. I was receiving signals and directions from an unknown well of knowledge.

Then, he took me over. He pulled away and lunged toward my mouth. I knew what the word plundered meant now. His one hand clutched at mine, his grip tightening with each passing moment, the other dug into my back and slowly drew me closer.

I wrestled my hand back and he broke off the kiss as blood rushed to my deprived hand and I gasped to catch my breath. Pushing him back against the window, he looked beautiful with wild eyes and lush pink lips. He was sprawled against the window because of me.

I could see a sliver of pale skin at his waist and my eyes widened in need. I needed to know if he tasted like winter sunshine, power and cashmere. I scooted back and lost his touch. Bent over him, I looked in his eyes and saw the echo of need. Dipping down, I pushed up his sweater with my nose and nuzzled the warm skin. He smelled like no other, tasted like no other and felt like other. I would die now and be happy.

I felt like I'd been dipped in warm honey as I bit and tasted his skin. He would shiver and arch against my lips and when I moaned, he whimpered as it rode his skin. A lurch of the train and I looked up to him, his mouth hung open slightly as though he could not find the strength to hold it closed. His eyes had sprung open as I looked up at him.

I remember being 11 and wanting nothing more than to go to Hogwarts and now, I knew I wanted nothing more than him. To taste him, feel him, mark him, own him, and be in him. He needed to be laid out before me, under me.

My frustration mounted as I warred with myself. To want him this much and knowing that it shouldn't be. I didn't know how to take what I wanted, to take what was rightfully mine.

He took the decision from me and pushed me away. He knelt in front of me then and crossed his hands over his waist and pulled his sweater up over his head. His skin shone before me, unblemished and perfect. Drawn to him, I pressed my face to his heartbeat and slid my hands around his back. Clasping his neck, I drew them down along his spine feeling the curvature of his shoulders and the dip of his spine. Of their own volition they slid to cup his arse. The famed seeker build wasn't disappointing to me as I pulled him closer.

The train lurched again and we rocked in each others arms, small laughter bubbling up from inside. Happy, that's what I felt. I think he felt it too. I sought out his mouth to taste him again, to taste his laughter. This kiss was different; it wasn't about showing it was about sharing as we learned each other.

And then it was over. A voice announced the imminent arrival into Hogsmeade station and we reluctantly pulled away from each other. I reached for his sweater and helped him pull it over his head, kissing his nose as it popped through the sweater top. Just one more kiss, that's all I need to have. I could live with it if there were no more but I needed this right now.

He cupped my cheeks in his hands and placed one last kiss on my lips. I inhaled his scent and knew I'd forever associate cashmere and winter sunshine with Draco Malfoy.

He stood and walked out without a backward glance.

Not one word had been spoken but we'd said everything we needed to say.


End file.
